


our love like flowers

by grandstander



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Betrothed, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, transgender character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2018-11-23 18:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11407869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandstander/pseuds/grandstander
Summary: In an effort to forge a peace, an arranged marriage was agreed upon between Demacia and Noxus. The current Hand of Noxus agrees to betroth his eldest adopted child to the eldest of the Crownguard children. Perhaps the two will find love in it for themselves.





	1. blue heart lillies

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so, basically this is a big fun au i've come up with alongside a friend. a lot of the au is based off of our headcanons, as well as the circumstances of the au. 
> 
> the biggest points to establish is that garen is trans, kled is the current hand of noxus and hasn't left the noxian military (and he has also adopted darius and draven), and poppy will be based off of her old lore (and garen sees her as a mother figure moreso than his own; i have a lot of headcanons about his parents that i'll dive into as the story goes along). i do believe that's it!

The child’s hair is long and brown, curled at the very tips, with bright blue eyes that remind Darius of the ocean on a clear day. They’re lovely to look at, he decides, they remind him of peaceful thoughts. The first time he sees the child is when she’s no more than five, hand in hand with her father while her mother stands aside with a blond haired baby in her arms. Darius doesn’t understand much of what is being discussed, or the weight of it, but two days later Kled tells him he may marry the same brown haired child when he’s older. 

—

The next time Darius meets the same child, his hair is shorter. Much shorter. A very neat cut, with only slight bangs tapering over his forehead. His eyes are still bright and wide, a crystal clear blue. This time Darius thinks of a summer sky with no clouds within sight when he looks into them. 

It’s been three years since Darius had seen him the first time, and he wonders if the other child remembers him at all. He was eight, after all, he can recall the memory vividly, while the Demacian child was only five. 

He seems nervous, hands clasped in front of himself while he hovers closer to a yordel and a man Darius hasn’t seen before other than his own parents. There are more adults with them this time, too, but the boy’s mother isn’t holding the infant she was before (Darius guesses she’s at home, same as his younger brother). They leave Darius with him along with the yordel and his uncle (Darius comes to find that out when the boy tugs at the man’s shirt and speaks to the adult in a quiet voice; he still doesn’t know his name). 

The adults are arguing in the room they are outside of, and Darius can noticeably pick up the voice of the boy’s father. The heaviness of his tone carries like thunder, and Darius can see the way his shoulders tighten and his fingers curl tighter around the hem of his uncle’s shirt in response. Most of what they’re saying is in Demacian and some Common; Darius doesn’t know enough to understand, only enough to catch words in Common. With each shout the boy seems to grow smaller and smaller, enough to make Darius now worry. 

“I.. I like your.. Uh,” he pauses, unsure of how to say the last word in Demacian. “Your hair,” he says in Noxian instead, his fingers coming up to grab a tuft of his own hair in an attempt to communicate his intended words. 

Those endlessly clear and bright blue eyes turn to him, away from the door where all the noise is behind, and he stares for a moment before answering. 

“My hair?” he asks, voice clear and soft, Common perfectly spoken. Darius nods in response, a shy smile on his lips, and thankfully that seems to be enough to break the distress piling onto the other boy’s shoulders. 

He’s rewarded with a bright smile, stretching wide across his face, enough to make his cheeks curve and his eyes light up, too. “Thank you,” he answers in Noxian, smile still wide, and finally the tension coiling within his shoulders seems to slowly relieve itself. 

He seems to be deeply relieved by the fact that Darius is willing to speak to him, and he always takes Darius’ kind words deeply (perhap in the years later Darius would know what those words would mean to him then and there). The voices behind the door are dying down, too, now, but they may be speaking for some time still. Those same eyes flicker to the door in the same instance his fingers squeeze the fabric of his uncle’s shirt, but he turns back to Darius, lips parting as if to still speak. Darius can understand his intent to keep speaking with someone. 

“My name’s Garen,” he says in Common, smile having dimmed slightly but present nonetheless. Perhaps he would use Noxian, but Darius isn’t sure how much he really knows (maybe only phrases and words in the midst of all the political interaction). 

“I’m Darius,” he answers in return, and by know he notices the way the yordel is eyeing him. Her stare is instance, but harder and colder than the clear, inviting waters of Garen’s eyes. Her hammer leaves her as more than intimidating, and he wonders why she’s not in the room with the other adults, but decides not to question it. 

Garen turns to look at her when he notices Darius is looking at her too, but he smiles towards her and some of the ice of her exterior melts for him. Now Darius seems to understand why she is here, and his mother is not. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” the Demacian boy says to him in the same clear and clean Common when his attention returns to him once more. Darius smiles in return, not sure of how to answer, but he’s happy that he seemed to have made the right decision in speaking to the other boy.

Finally, the adults file out of the room, but Garen’s slowly rising glow dims just as his parents are within view. He returns to a quiet passivity, retaining his tongue so as to remain the polite child his parents raised him to be. Darius still recalls the implication that this meeting had been called in regards to the two of them, hence the way nervousness creeps up Garen’s spine, but he’ll never truly know until later. He follows his father and mother, now holding his uncle’s hand, but he does linger to turn and wave a goodbye to Darius. 

Slowly, almost shyly, Darius raises his own as Kled returns to his side at a much slower pace than Garen’s parents took him away. Kled also tells him that night he’ll be marrying that boy when they’re both of age. 


	2. peonies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a garen centered chapter. i wanted to write more about his growing up as a little trans boy, and how he reacts to when darius speaks to him the first time. 
> 
> like i said before, a lot of this is based off my own headcanons. nikkolas is the name i chose for garen's uncle, and elizabeth is the name i picked for his mother.

Mother was furious when Uncle Nikkolas cut his hair, it was probably the least composed Garen had ever seen her. She was always such a strict woman, sharp tongue and calm wit; to see her angry, _angry with him_ , drove lightning through to his core. 

Garen himself, though, had been overjoyed. His uncle had always listened to him the most (and Lady Poppy, too, of course). He had told his uncle first, and his uncle had listened first. With Lady Poppy’s help, Nikkolas had managed to cut his head, neat and clean, a short haircut that left him feeling lighter not only physically but within himself. 

“I look like a real boy now,” he’d said, beaming at the mirror with hair clippings still sitting on his shoulders (Nikkolas still trying to brush them off, but in his excitement Garen kept shifting to look between him and the mirror). He kept smiling, too, beginning to bounce in his seat when the last of the cut hair was brushed off his person and he was dressed again. 

He was downright giddy, immediately hugging his uncle tight against his middle when he had hopped out of his chair. “Thank you so much, Uncle Nikkolas,” he said, burying his face into the older man’s stomach while still grinning wide enough to bring hints of teardrops to the corners of his eyes. 

When Garen returned home, fear finally took hold of him like a monster’s claws around his entire body; that was the same fury he was met with, too. He’s told to leave the room, to play with his little sister, while they “talk.” Garen hears her yelling from the sitting room anyway while Luxanna grabs his fingers and looks up at him with innocent eyes. 

Things are tense at home for some time, but his uncle visits often along with Lady Poppy, taking him and Luxanna both away while Mother and Father are busy. It soothes some of his worry, but fear and anxiety are as second-nature to him as his own skin. His sister helps, too; she’s starting to learn how to talk and plays with him more. 

They force Garen to come along to the meeting with the Noxian officials while Luxanna stays home with their nannies and his other relatives. He ends up holding his uncle’s hand for most of the trip, because he can feel the storm brewing in the air, thick with rain and thunder spearheaded by his own parents. At night it leaves him feeling tired and worn out, like he has truly and physically been through the storm. At night he cries sometimes. 

It’s a dismal trip. Garen hardly finds a saving grace in any of it. He still clings to the comfort his uncle offers as his parents and people he’s never met or seen before enter a conference room he has to wait outside of. Just as the door’s close, he can hear the commanding tone of his father’s voice take center stage within. The words disgrace leave his Father’s lips along with his name (the name he’d been given, not the name he chose), and apologies from both of his parents. It begins to weigh heavily on his shoulders that he is wrong, he has done wrong. 

They begin to argue. He can hear a Noxian accented voice agree, that their child has brought dishonor to the agreement they had reached before his birth. His father asks if the agreement was truly void, if they would not still take their child; Garen feels like bricks are being piled onto his fragile back, like he’ll be crushed under the weight of their disappointment. 

He almost wants to cry. It’s the voice of the other boy that breaks him from it, like being pulled out from under all the rubble of hatred. Garen stares at him, stunned for a moment, before he understands that he’s using the Noxian word for hair. 

He likes his haircut. 

It suits him. 

Like fresh air after almost drowning, Garen leaps to it, smile blooming over his features and he’s proud and thankful. He could be a boy after all, right? It leaves a slate to create sparks of confidence from within his fragile little heart. 

“Thank you,” he answers, clearly and neatly spoken like his mother had taught him. He was still their child; he could not be ill-mannered. It’s a relief Garen leaps to, wanting to keep whatever trickling words from reaching his ears as the conference seems to drag on. Garen can swallow the lump in his throat safely, quietly thankful to this other boy. 

He doesn’t get to speak to Darius much more, but Garen decides he’d like to be friends with that boy if he ever sees him again.


	3. sunflowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo, up with another chapter. i don't have a deep plan for this story, like i said before it's mostly following my whims and my own feel good wants. expect some pinning to start coming in soon, haha. as said before this is mostly based off of headcanons i share with a friend. anyway, enjoy!! 
> 
> feedback would be appreciated, it keeps me motivated

They do meet again, several times actually. They’re escorted to meetings every so often by their respective guardians. ‘To socialize, to secure the marriage between the children,’ is what they’re told. Darius doesn’t fully understand, but he trusts Kled and owes him so much as it is, so he respects the yordel enough to do as he’s asked. Garen isn’t an unpleasant person to meet, anyway. 

When his mother and father are with him, Garen’s very polite, words spoken in even collected tones, posture straight and controlled. A perfect noble boy. Darius doesn’t pry, but he gets the impression of how strained and how disconnected the relationship between the Demacian boy and his parents is. It saddens him in a way, a mixture of anger, pity, and jealousy, for he never knew his birth parents. His mother had been taken from him by death and illness, his father never known. Garen’s parents have him, and he has his, and yet he can see and feel the shame in the boy’s eyes when they are near. 

His mother and father don’t come with him very often, though, which seems to be for the best. Usually, Garen’s uncle accompanies him, and his uncle brings more smiles and more comfort to the child’s demeanor. He talks more, too, and there’s a genuine joy to his canter that seems excited and curious. No matter how quiet, how strong and resilient Darius builds himself up to be, those blue eyes and gentle smile pull him, like he’s being ropped in on golden thread. He lets himself, smiles leaving him ever so often in return to the wide grins he sees from Garen. They only see each other every now and then, anyway.  


It’s been two years since their first real interaction, and they’ve met enough times for Darius to stop counting. They meet at least every few months, and they’re both steadily growing, but Darius remains the taller of the two. 

This time they’re sharing dinner while sitting opposite of each other, their respective guardian to their side. Nikkolas is with Garen this time, which means he’s smiling and talking more. Despite that, Darius doesn’t miss the obvious unease that sits on the older man’s shoulders. It’s as if he’s uncomfortable with this arrangement, what with the way he keeps eyeing Kled as well as Darius. It doesn’t necessarily surprise him, but it does make him feel.. awkward. Garen is likely oblivious to it, Darius thinks. He’s being raised in conjunction to a Noxian, so he’s less acquainted with the Demacian tradition of prejudice. 

The dinner itself is much more formal than Darius is accustomed to. The plates have elegant patterns along the edges, the cutlery are shining silver, and the food itself is almost artistically presented. Kled doesn’t usually bother raising Darius and Draven in a similar setting. He finds its trifling and a waste, they have more important things to expend their energy on, that’s what Kled teaches him. Fancy dishes won’t make them strong. 

However, that does leave Darius unsure of where to proceed, so he watches the Demacian boy in front of him in hopes of mirroring his actions. Garen notices after a moment, catching Darius’s gaze and this time he thinks of a pond with lily pads floating on the surface when he looks into Garen’s eyes. 

Garen smiles, the tips of his fork still in between his lips. The lack of silverware in the Noxian boy’s hand leaves him curious, so he cocks his head to the side. He’s able to connect the dots after Darius glances at the line of silverware next to his plate, then back to Garen, so he places his fork down from the place he’d taken it to subtly show the other boy which would be considered proper to use. 

Darius nods his thanks, which earns him another smile from Garen. There’s something about them that Darius likes seeing, that make him feel content and safe. Perhaps it’s the notion that he knows that those smiles are something like treasures, quiet and safeguarded in the presence of a much more demanding life. Garen’s always polite, a noble born Demacian at his roots, but the genuine happiness he shows spreads and glows like a warm fire during winter. Darius can’t help but give his own slight smiles in return. 

Kled is the one to break the silence by speaking to Nikkolas, his accent slipping gracefully off his words for a clearer pattern of speech he elects to take in private and professional environment. 

“These meetin’s will have to be less often from now on,” the Hand of Noxus says strongly, silently staring down the other man, as if daring Nikkolas to challenge him. The Demacian man’s brow sinks slightly as his lips part to deliver a retort, but Kled doesn’t let him. “Darius has started his training.” 

This seems to halt any objections from Nikkolas, who’s forced to swallow any displeased answers. He nods, voice calm but answering with the same strength, “Very well. Garen will begin his soon enough as well.” 

Darius can see the pride that lights up in Garen’s eyes when his uncle mention he’ll begin his training to become a soldier just as him. It’s an opportunity for him to rise to what’s expected of him, but Darius wonders if there’s too much being expected from just one boy. He’s smiling, though, so at least there’s that. 

“So you’ve already started?” Garen asks him, curious and a hint of admiration in his gaze. It almost leaves Darius feeling bashful; he’s only been training for seven months. He simply nods in return. 

“That’s exciting,” he adds, still smiling as he cuts neatly into the plate in front of him. “Good luck,” Garen says, looking back up to him with another smile. Again, Darius can’t help but return it. 

“Thanks, you too.”


	4. snapdragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a darius focused chapter, next one will be a garen focused one. i figured i outta get some character development and establishment down before i go too much deeper. it's short, too, my apologies. anyway, thanks for reading! 
> 
> also, i figured i'd explain my chapter names from now own. i'm going with flower themes to suit the 'garden' title of the fic. i chose snapdragons more because they're supposed to be a very "sturdy" flowers that bloom a lot and can survive fall and spring.

The only part of his “training” that Darius truly dislikes is the… more formal learning he must endure. Kled himself greatly disapproved, argued vehemently against it, said it would be wasting his time when he could be learning something much more important. The other politicians who had participated in the political agreement of his betrothal insisted that Darius ought to learn it, otherwise he would come to disappoint the formal culture of Demacian nobility.

Darius finds it tiring, unnecessary in some ways. Why do people need so many unspoken rules when they speak with others, in the way that they walked, or the way that they stood? It was as if these people, Demacians, lived their lives in a series of cages made to look like protective walls. It bewildered him, but in the end it was expected of him, it was a challenge. A challenge was presented because it was a test, it needed to be overcome, he needed to endure. Darius would surpass any challenge that would come his way. If Demacians saw fit to construct their walls and cages, he could climb them and push past them all the same. 

It’s his training in order to become a soldier, the next Hand of Noxus, that inspired him most of all. Kled trained him himself, encouraging more respect to grow in the young boy for the yordel. Kled was becoming not only a father figure, but a tutor, and someone who taught him to truly be strong, to survive.

When Darius hits the ground, his body ached as if thunder had quaked through him. He grit his teeth anyway, forced whatever sound or cry that could come from him to stay within his throat. His jaw was becoming sore with how often he was swallowing his pain. It was necessary, though, it was necessary to grow stronger. He could not dissapoint Kled, not here, not ever. 

The Hand of Noxus had looked at him in his filth and his muck and he had chosen him anyway. “You’ll be a strong one,” he’d said when Darius had stood between the yordel and his little brother. Kled had faith in him, had taken Draven and him from the dismal streets into his own care. Kled could see the fire in his eyes, the passion for his country and his soldiers that would become hin. He hadn’t hesitated to do the same for his brother (it’d struck a chord with Kled, an old one he’d buried dead, memories from so long ago they almost felt like dreams; he had thought of his sister). 

“Get up,” Kled commands, his voice like iron and stone. Darius obeys and forces himself up from the ground, gritting his teeth as he resumes the stance Kled has taught him. “Ya’ gotta learn t’ keep a level head in battle. Don’t let yer’ enemy control you,” the Hand of Noxus continues, his tone still even and cold, but his lesson no less important. 

“Yes sir,” Darius answers in returning, nodding to indicate that he understood. He would take the words to heart, too, as with all of Kled’s lessons. 

“Now, try again.” 

And Darius does, this time he is calm and watches, matches his steps with Kled’s. This time, he’s able to block more of his blows because he’s learning the other’s rhythm, learning to think quickly on his feet. A shadow of a grin comes to the yordel’s face because he notices it, too, and he swells with a quiet pride that this boy that he saw such future in his eyes begin to grow towards it. He can see sweat trailing down the boy’s brow and the tell tale signs that he’ll have a bruise over his forearm within the evening, so he pulls back, satisfied with the evening. 

“You’re improving,” Kled says, to which Darius feels immensely proud himself. He would rise to every challenge in order to meet the future Kled saw in him, that Kled believed was there. If Kled saw potential in him, then Darius would prove it was there ten times over. 

Darius is still panting from the training exercises, but he nods nonetheless. “Thank you, sir.” 

“Draven will be joining you in your training next summer,” he continues, handing the training swords they used off to be put away. Darius hums in acknowledgement, noting that Draven will be starting a year or so earlier than he had. He almost wants to ask why, but he doesn’t pry (Kled, however, can read his quiet curiosity well enough, and answers anyway). 

“He’s gettin’ much too clever for his own good, he’s drivin’ the tutors crazy. Figure I outta put his energy into somethin’ more productive.” 


	5. daises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a garen centered chapter to go along with the darius one, and this one also focuses on sibling bonding and how i think garen feels lux is important to him. i don't know if i've said it before but the name i use for their mother is elizabeth. i tend to think their parents were arranged to marry and she came from a family of slightly lower status. i also tend to headcanon that garen and lux are closer to each other than their parents.
> 
> next chapter i plan to go back to developing darius and garen's dynamic now that i have something about their own developments and settings established.
> 
> for reference (and kind of my own), darius and garen have a three year age difference. last time they met they were ten and thirteen (chapter 3). in chapters four and five darius is fifteen and garen is twelve.

Although Elizabeth’s anger had been bright and sharp like lightning that broke through the sky in the beginning, hers was just as swiftly concealed. It showed then when she had argued with his Uncle, but never did she raise herself to such rage ever again. His mother was, above all else, perfect in her composition. It was expected of her from his father’s parents, her own family having been of lower status than the Crownguards. She was a stern woman, but she kept her son neat and without a hair out of place, and he did not argue the rough hand that combed his hair or or pulled his collar too tight. They had gone to so much effort to ‘ _ fix things _ ,’ as they put it, that he was now expected to fulfil the image of a perfect son.

It was his father’s anger that hurt him the most. 

He was not kind when Garen cried, did not wipe his tears or take his hand. His voice, strong and powerful would rumble like thunder, would tell him to raise his chin and be strong. Pieter would not help him to his feet if he fell when he was training, he would only tell him to get back up, and to ready his sword or shield again. He did not truly deny him as his son, but he was not _kind_ , either. Garen didn’t question that, he only strived to meet their expectations of him. They had given him the opportunity after all, and he was young and scared and did not want that to be taken from him.

Lux was getting older and and she had long since learned to talk, she was beginning to notice how her mother and father did not take her brother’s hands like they did her, nor did they kiss the top of his head when sending him to bed. She was the only one to question it, and in turn they would simply tell her to be on her way, they were busy, that her brother was simply getting older. The answers never satisfied her, so instead she would take his hands or kiss his cheeks when they went to bed. 

She asked him why sometimes, said she didn’t understand, or that it just wasn’t fair. Garen usually did not given a true answer, or he’d silently dance around it. He knew why, everyone knew why, it was an elephant in the room they would forcefully smother until they had grown old enough that it was no longer in the memory of anyone relevant. If they all simply pretended it never was, or it never happened, they could will away the struggle. The Crownguard family could not afford to have faults, they were protectors to the people and Kings, their family was to be perfect. 

Luxanna still asks, Garen thinks she knows, but just doesn’t understand quite yet. 

“Mother and Father were not happy that I was not born as the girl they had… expected,” he says carefully as she stares at him with wide eyes while holding a large teddy bear in front of her. It’s nearly as big as her. 

The answer still doesn’t satisfy her, with her brows furrowing and lips drawn into a purt frown as evidence of her disapproval. Her little hands let go of the bear and she reaches forward, pressing them against his cheeks and pushing them together. “But you’re a big strong brother!” she says in turn, as if that somehow negates everything, as if that in and of itself is perfect and how he should be. “That’s better!” she adds, bright smile spreading over her lips. 

Luxanna finally lets go of his face, the bear in her lap slipping to the side and laying over her knee now as she took another toy in her hand, a small carved knight to add to the castle they’d built. “It’s okay anyway, they got me! Now they have one of each!” his sister says as she turns back to him, pulling the bear back up into her arms as she rests her chin on top of its head. She says it like it should fix everything, as if there was no real reason for them to be upset. What more could their parents want?

Garen smiles at her and he’s thankful she seems to love him regardless, and she thinks of him only as her brother, while his parents can’t seem to shake their first memories of him. He’s sure that as long as he has his sister, though, he can endure whatever they say or feel. If she loves him so much, surely they will come to love him as much, too, surely he can make them proud that he is their son.

“I’m glad you think so,” he answers, his own voice soft and gentle while he smiles fondly at his dear sister. “I’ll be the best big brother.” 

Her smile stretches over her cheeks, bright and lovely, brilliant like stars (it’s almost like she glows with happiness, then). “You already are the best big brother, silly,” Luxanna teases as she laughs, dropping her bear so that she can lean forward and hug his chest. 

It’s enough to make a laugh rise in his chest, too, which Lux feels rise from his stomach up through his body, and the feeling of it against her cheek and ear makes her giggle again. “And you’re the best sister,” Garen adds as he wraps his arms around her in turn, pulling her into his lap to hug her properly. 


	6. irises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! here's another update, and i'm finally getting to something i plotted as a minor key event. i said i wrote this meant to be more of a self indulgent series but i feel like it's been a lot of exposition and laying out the setting so far. 
> 
> anyway! i don't know when my next update will be because i actually have never gotten this far with a series fic before, i'm more of a one-shot author. i hope this series has been engaging and entertaining regardless, though! sorry the chapters aren't too long. i hope to get better at that as i progress, too. thank you for reading and those who have left support. it motivates me to keep working on a series, and writing in general! 
> 
> if anyone has any requests or suggestions for things they'd like to see in this au / series do let me know!! i'd love to write something someone requests, haha. anyway, please enjoy!

Years pass and neither see each other. There is little time to with Darius growing further into the last years of his training, and Garen beginning to advance past his first years. Kled seems to be thankful for the fact that they don’t have to waste time on things like etiquette when Darius should be applying himself in becoming strong and respectable. Draven was beginning to demand more of his time, too; the boy could not be satisfied be it in terms of knowledge or entertainment. 

Garen applied himself viciously; he devoted himself to reaching for his father’s praise, to fulfilling his responsibilities. He would still be the next King’s Crownguard, after all, and if he were to be the knight of the King, he would need to be worthy of the title. He was excelling in both his studies and his physical training, but it did not seem to satisfy his father’s expectations of a son. That in and of itself, however, only drives him to be more dedicated to meeting his expectations as a Crownguard.

By the time they see eachother again, three years had passed. Darius had grown much taller, and his frame was at an awkward stage of being lean while attempting to fill itself in. The skin of his palms was rough from the grip of a weapon, his voice sank deep with a quiet power. Darius was sixteen and growing properly into his armor, into becoming a soldier of Noxus. He would become the pride of Noxus alongside his brother. 

Garen, however, looks to be more of a boy carved from marble rather than real and living. He was thirteen and his features still held soft curves, he was lean, and moved with the grace of a breeze. He looked  _ perfect _ , like he was some artist’s muse for an angel in a painting, but the more Darius watched him the less he looked truly real. It baffled him, and made him both equal parts bewildered and angered. The feeling of quiet rage and discomfort sits in his core like hot coals.

He watches as Garen bows to Kled and the two Noxian diplomats that accompanied them. Kled only grunts in response, and Pieter’s brow furrows in disapproval, but Darius highly doubts the yordle cares. Garen stands silently beside his father, but it feels as if he is watching someone different from who he remembered. The smile he had offered in polite greeting to the Noxians was barely a ghost of the bright smiles he recalls, the ones that felt contagious even to him. 

When Darius greets Pieter and the Demacian diplomats in turn, he only offers a stern nod and a handshake. It seems to suffice for them regardless, but then he turns to see Garen and a shallow pool of different emotions churn in his gut. There is the underlying knowledge that ultimately they will be married at some point in their lives, and so they are inevitably bound to one another. However, their understanding of each other is only vaguely deeper than that of their elders. They meet only under the pretense of political discussions and negotiations, as well as under the ever present eyes of judgement. They are, to put it simply, curious about one another, but their curiosity can only be very vaguely satisfied.

Garen smiles at him and it is softer and brighter than the ones he had shown before, which had only been curt or polite. Whereas he greeted his fellow Noxians with formality and pleasantries, there is a genuine admiration in his expression (it makes Darius feel like he is being washed in a light he does not deserve). His eyes, though, his eyes that Darius gravitate to because they’ve always been as alluring as crystals and as calming, were now only a blue that feels chalky, like paint on a palace wall, and less like the ever moving surface of the ocean. 

“It is nice to see you again,” Garen says to him as his father continues speaking with Kled. He watches them for only a moment before fully turning to face Darius, and again he takes the moment to observe the other boy. Garen’s taller but not as tall as him, and he’s grown lean while the curves of his jaw remain softer. His hair is still short, the same cut he’s had since they were boys. Garen is befitting to his birth and his heritage, ultimately, but the brightness of his demeanor has slowly dimmed. It angers Darius to watch him slowly be smothered, for his light to die before he’s even grown.

Darius hums in agreement, then clears his throat to try and find his words when he realizes he’s been staring down at Garen for a short while. “It’s nice to see you again, too,” he offers, perhaps a bit awkward in his delivery. Garen only smiles in return, and it makes him feel like he’s rising and sinking at the same time. 

The principles of formal speech did not suit him very well; Darius was a blunt and honest person. He is reminded again of the needless structure of Demacian culture. He finds most of this entire ordeal grating as a result. He could be training or working, even leaving him and Garen alone to form their own relationship would be more productive than this. Instead they could only speak to each other in graced words with another pair of eyes as subject to their growth. He felt like a wild animal pacing in a cage, fists clenched at his side and jaw held tightly. 

Garen hadn’t looked away from him in a long time, either. When they were young, those eyes staring at him made him feel like he was among stars, but now, he was only in another room with more walls and more bars. Another cage. It made him want to grab Garen by his hand and take away from this, somewhere where the wonder and the light in his eyes wasn’t slowly dying. Somewhere where the both of them could simply be or talk, where he could truly know this boy who made him feel such peace before.

“Are you alright, Darius?” Garen asks him after a silence had blanketed itself around them like heavy snowfall. His voice is quiet, gentle compared to the voices of the world around them. 

“The light is gone from your eyes,” he says without thinking in his native tongue, his voice solemn and akin to a knell. Garen only stares at him, a fragment of distress flickering in his expression as he searches Darius’s face while his jaw clenched (Darius knows then that Garen’s knowledge of Noxian was fluent enough to understand him). There is a small flicker of pain in those eyes, a single fracture of light on a dark pool of water, and it makes Darius feel like he’s drowning painfully for only a second. A light rises in him but it is not the one he wanted to see, the one he remembers. 

“What do you mean?” he asks, obviously bewildered. His hands curl into tight fists at his sides, and the anchor that Darius had steadily become in his thoughts was now questioned. 

Darius doesn’t know how to answer him. He doesn’t know how to tell Garen he feels as if he’s watching a living boy slowly be crafted into something akin to a statue, with perfect manners and stone cold skin. He doesn’t know how to tell him to not lose his heart, his soul. Instead he looks away from Garen and clears his throat. 

“It’s nothing,” he says quickly, returning back to Common. Garen doesn’t say anything further, but the weight of his silence feels heavier than any words would. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as an aside, i'm changing all the chapter titles to only being the name of a flower. 
> 
> this chapter i chose irises because they have a very, very short vase life.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know how long this series will be. it's honestly just a really sweet, fluffy and casual kind of fic. i think the ships needs it. i hope you all like it!!


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